


Pressed Between the Pages of the Mind

by Dragon_Lord



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Amnesia AU, F/M, Finland, Max being a Number One Dad, Memory Loss, Other characters will show up later, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Lord/pseuds/Dragon_Lord
Summary: They’d known amnesia was a possible side-effect of removing the chip, but Jamie had never let herself consider that outcome.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely started writing this way before the finale, probably around ‘Stakes on a Plane,’ and I decided not to edit it to fit canon, for reasons. So this is an AU, clearly. The world is saved, Abigail is dead (probably), and sterility has been cured. Except Mitch can’t remember any of it.  
> I have been doing a lot of research into amnesia cases, but if I get something wrong (and I will), I’m sorry. Zoo is already riddled with flawed logic, why should the fanfiction be any different?

He didn’t remember her.

Jamie could tell the second Mitch opened his eyes and looked at her that he had no idea who she was. There wasn’t a shred of recognition on his blank face, only confusion, and he didn’t say anything. Just stared, with eyes slightly unfocused.

She swallowed and fought hard against her urge to cry. When she spoke, she addressed his father, not him. “He doesn’t recognize me.”

Max leaned down to get on Mitch’s level. “Son, do you know who we are?”

He didn’t reply, only shook his head, and Jamie could see a hint of fear in his eyes now.

It was a dangerous operation, and they’d known amnesia was a possible side-effect of removing the chip, but Jamie had never let herself consider that outcome. Much like she wouldn’t consider the possibility of the chip eventually killing him if they did nothing. For weeks, she had just lived in a state of worrying limbo until Max had decided enough was enough, that they were getting this thing out of his son’s brain once and for all.

Now, he looked at Jamie with a deep sadness in his eyes (god, his eyes reminded her so much of Mitch).

All he said was, “I’m sorry.”

\---

They were lucky, Max told her later. He’d still retained cognitive brain function and remembered how to do basic things—walk, talk, tie his shoes, shower. Things like that came naturally, he’d explained. A human body, after so many years, could perform some tasks like clockwork, requiring little to no brain function. They were lucky, he said, it was only his memories he’d lost.

Jamie didn’t feel lucky.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” she asked Max.

“There’s nothing we can do but wait. Amnesia cases are fickle things. Maybe his mind will come back to him, maybe it won’t. I’m an optimistic man, Jamie. But we need to be prepared for every outcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would so love to be able to promise quick, regular updates, but you guys know me, and you know that would be a big fat lie. But hey, cut me some slack--this is my first real, multi-chapter story!  
> The title comes from the Elvis song "Memories."
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think!


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add ‘Finnish Housing Plans’ to the list of ‘Things I Never Thought I’d Research for Fanfiction.’ Who knew there was an Australian band out there called “Architecture in Helsinki”? They’re not bad. Also, saunas are extremely popular in Finland—nearly one per household.

_Day One_

Helsinki was nice this time of year. It was probably nice most times of the year, but Jamie hadn’t visited often enough to know for herself. She’d find out soon, she supposed.

Mitch didn’t really have anywhere else to go. After being legally dead for ten years, then living on a plane for several months after that, his only option was his father. He didn’t seem to remember that he hated his father, and Max didn’t tell him.

There was an unspoken invitation that Jamie stay with them for a while and, well, she didn’t much feel like going back to her lonely New York townhouse just yet. And Max’s manor had room to spare.

“Six bedrooms!” he boasted as he crossed the threshold, arms spread wide in display. “Four full bathrooms, one half-bath, and a sauna!”

Mitch gave a low whistle as he took in the entrance hall. “Didn’t realize I came from money.”

“Not exactly,” Max amended with a modest smile. “I made my fortune the hard way.”

“Prostitution?”

His father let out a whooping laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to see you haven’t forgotten your sense of humor, son!”

Jamie knew what he was doing. It was his way of dealing with things: laugh about it, pretend everything’s fine, and maybe the problem will go away. Maybe you’ll forget that your own son doesn’t even recognize you. She couldn’t fault him for trying to cope.

They were alone, now. Max had left the hallway in search of something or other, she hadn’t heard. She turned to Mitch with what she hoped was a comforting smile.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” she began, not really knowing what she was trying to say, “but, uh, we’re here for you, Max and I. We want to help.”

He looked uncomfortable but flashed a tight smile. “Thanks, um… god, sorry.”

“Jamie.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Jamie. Was I always this bad with names?”

She chuckled, gave a shrug. “Kinda, yeah.”

\---

Clementine had opted to stay stateside. Max made the decision that it was in Mitch’s best interest not to bombard him with too much information at once, and the revelation that he not only had a daughter (and at one point, a wife) that he didn’t remember, but a newborn grandson as well could easily overwhelm him.

Anyway, she and Sam wanted to help with the West Coast Reconstruction, as it was being called, repairing all the damage done by hybrids for the past ten years. And they had their child to think about now.

She promised to write, and Jamie promised to keep her informed of her father’s recovery.

(The implication was clear: _I’ll let you know if he remembers you._ )

\---

Dinner was a quiet affair. ‘Awkward’ was probably a better term.

“This was your favorite, you know.” At least Max was making an effort towards conversation.

Mitch hummed in response, stabbing another bite of chicken with his fork. “Uh, thanks.”

There were another few seconds of stoic silence before he spoke up again. “So! I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and we may as well get started answering some of them, huh? What do you want to know?”

“Uh,” he thought for a moment. “No real good place to start. Um, do I live here? In Finland?”

“No, no,” Max replied. “You used to live in Los Angeles.”

“That’s where we met,” Jamie chimed in.

Mitch looked to her with a slightly pained expression. “Right… And, remind me again, uh, what our relationship is, exactly?”

 _Good question_ , she thought to herself. They’d never exactly put a label on… whatever it was they’d been doing these past few months, just accepted it as it was. Now, she wasn’t even sure if she knew what it was anymore. Did it even matter?

(She couldn’t possibly tell him that she loved him, not when she could barely admit it to herself.)

With a slight throat-clearing, she answered. “We were friends. Good friends.”

“You and Jamie were very close,” Max added, as if he were unaware of the sensitive topic. “You told me not too long ago that she was the person you trusted the most.”

Mitch didn’t reply. He stared at his dinner like he was working out a puzzle in his head, one that he didn’t have all the pieces to.

“I think I’ll head to bed,” Jamie said as she stood. She avoided Mitch’s eyes as she gathered up her dirty dishes to take to the kitchen. “I’ve… got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Max tsked, and he made to stand up. “There’s some Advil in the medicine cabinet. I can get it—”

She waved him back down. “No, it’s okay. I just, uh, need some sleep.”

He nodded, and Jamie hated the almost pitying look in his eyes.

“Sleep well.”


	3. Day Two

_Day Two_

_(“Mitch, are you sure about this?”_

_Jamie must’ve sounded like a broken record, after repeating the same question for what had to be the tenth time that day. But Mitch just shrugged and said, “Honestly, not really. But we’re out of options, and I need to get this damn thing out of my head.”_

_It was his decision to make, she had to remind herself, not hers._

_“Just…” She paused. Running a hand over his unshaven cheek, she whispered, “Just come back to me, okay? Please? I’m not going another ten years without you.”_

_Mitch smiled. “I will, I promise.”_

_He kissed her, and she tried to ignore how much it felt like a goodbye.)_

The knock at her door jarred Jamie out of the memory. Wiping her eyes hastily, she went to answer it, hoping it wasn’t Mitch (but at the same time, hoping it was).

It was Max.

He was still smiling brightly (still pretending everything was okay). “Jamie, how’d you sleep?”

She didn’t, actually, but she offered him a tight smile. “Fine. Thank you again, Max. For letting me stay here. You didn’t have to.”

The room he’d given her was very nice, like the rest of the house. The bed was soft, one of four bathrooms was just down the hall, and her window overlooked the backyard. It didn’t feel like home, but Jamie couldn’t remember the last time a place had really felt like home to her.

Max waved a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense! You’re like a daughter to me, Jamie. Mi casa es tu casa! Or, as they say here in Finland, minun taloni on sinun talosi. Anyway, how about some breakfast?”

\---

Mitch was downstairs already, looking like he hadn’t slept much either. He sat at the kitchen table, in the same spot as the night before, and he looked up when Jamie entered. They locked eyes for a brief moment before Jamie lowered hers. Neither of them said anything.

Oblivious to the tension, or maybe purposefully ignoring it, Max puttered around in the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for pancakes. He never cooked for himself much, he explained, so this was good for him.

Jamie remained in the doorway between the two men, not really knowing what to do with herself. Finally, she said, “Max, do you need any help?”

“No, no,” he replied with a gallant smile, “don’t worry about me, Jamie. Go on, sit down!”

She knew he’d say that.

The seat next to Mitch looked far too intimidating, so Jamie took the one on the opposite end of the table, still unable to meet his eyes.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, Jamie mustered up the courage to speak. “Sleep okay?”

“Not really,” he answered truthfully. “I, uh—there were a lot of dreams I didn’t understand, but…”

Dreams. He’d mentioned his dreams to her once before—the ones he had in the tank, about her. She swallowed hard and shoved the thought to the side.

“What did you dream about?” she asked instead.

Mitch rubbed a hand over his brow. “People,” he said. “People I didn’t recognize, or don’t… remember.” He paused, glancing up at her. “Except… actually, you showed up a few times.”

Of course she did. Jamie cleared her throat. “Did I say anything?”

He shook his head, adjusted his glasses. Seemed his nervous tics were still the same, even if he couldn’t remember them. “You just… you said my name. That was it.”

“Breakfast is served!” Max re-entered the dining room then, carrying two full plates of (slightly burnt) pancakes, a bottle of maple syrup under one arm. He started to set the table, and Jamie dropped her gaze again.

She didn’t get a chance to say that she had been dreaming of him, too.

\---

As soon as Jamie got a moment to herself, she began her research.

_Retrograde Amnesia._

Causes: head trauma, strokes, brain tumors, and removing the brainwashing bio drive stuck in your head by a madwoman who wanted to end the world.

Treatments: psychotherapy, hypnosis, rea—

_Thump._

The noise came from above her. The attic, Jamie instinctively guessed. She shut her laptop and crossed to her bedroom doorway. Across the hall was an open door with a set of narrow stairs she hadn’t noticed before. Her old journalist curiosity took over.

It _was_ an attic, about the length of half the house—dim, musty, and everything an attic should be.

Max looked up when she entered. On the ground next to him was an overturned cardboard box spilling tacky Christmas decorations.

“Jamie,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make so much noise.”

She shook her head, kneeling to help him pick up the mess. “No, you’re fine. Uh, what are you doing up here?”

“Oh, just straightening up,” he said with a vague wave of his hand. He picked up the box again and carried it across the room, keeping his back to her. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess up here… been busy with work, you know… let things go.”

“Max?”

He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. Jamie stood up.

“Max, you don’t have to pretend you’re okay if you’re not.”

He turned, slowly, and his smile was gone. It was several seconds before he spoke again, eyes still fixated on the floor. “I thought my son was dead… for ten years. Ten years, I thought I’d never see him again, I’d never get to make things right.”

Jamie moved to stand next to him. The lines on his face were deeper than usual, finally betraying his true age. He looked years older than she’d ever seen him.

“Then a miracle happens and he’s back,” he continued. “And now… now it just feels like he’s being taken away from me all over again.”

“I know,” she murmured, hand on his shoulder. “I feel it, too.”

He sniffed before finally meeting her eyes. His were damp with unshed tears. “Mitch and I haven’t always had the best relationship.” He paused. “But this is my chance to fix that. I have to. You understand.”

It wasn’t a question. Jamie nodded.

“I do,” she said. “I understand. We’re gonna fix things, Max. He’s gonna get better, I promise.”

He smiled. It wasn’t as enthusiastic as usual, but he looked more like his old self. Patting Jamie’s hand affectionately, he turned to face the rest of the attic.

“I know I’ve got some old photo albums up here somewhere,” he muttered, “but I can’t seem to find them…”

There were boxes everywhere and almost all of them were unlabeled. A few pieces of furniture were covered by dusty sheets, packed away for who knew how long. Jamie ran her hand over the stack of boxes next to her, feeling their age in her fingertips.

“Let’s clean this up,” she said impulsively. Max stared at her. “Let’s clean it up,” she said again, with more conviction. “The attic. We need something to do, and we can’t just sit around and worry about Mitch all day.”

“That’s… that’s a good idea,” he finally said. “Lord knows this place could use a woman’s touch.”

Jamie smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few weeks are gonna be pretty busy for me, but I'll try to keep updating on a weekly basis for as long as I can! I've got the next couple of chapters written already, I just need to edit a bit more.
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think! Or drop a kudos if you like.


	4. Day Four

_Day Four_

“A dream journal? Seriously?”

Jamie had to fight to keep the grin off her face. Because, with his irritated expression and sarcastic tone, Mitch looked and sounded more like himself than he had in days. Nothing had come back to him yet, but his father was determined to stay hopeful.

Thus, the journal.

“Yes, seriously,” Max said, handing the book back to Mitch. “Your brain processes all of its information when you sleep, whether you can remember it or not.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Jamie added. Well, truthfully, it was the best idea they had at the moment. But that had to count for something. “I’ve been doing some research, and writing your dreams down may help you figure them out and remember something. Right?”

Max nodded. “Right.”

Mitch stared at the journal, flipping through the blank pages, then shrugged. “Guess it can’t hurt. What have I got to lose?”

“That’s the spirit, son!” his father said with a clap of his hands. He stood up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. “Just you wait, soon as Jamie and I get the attic cleared out, we’ll find those photo albums I’ve been looking for. It’ll all come back to you then!”

Jamie was going to have to have a talk with him about leaving her alone with Mitch without any warning. He cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, looking at the book in his hands, “research, huh?”

She smiled and couldn’t figure out why she felt embarrassed all of a sudden. “Habit, really. I used to be a journalist, a long time ago. Research was part of the job.”

“Right,” Mitch nodded. “That… almost sounds familiar.”

With what she hoped was an encouraging nod, Jamie said, “Good. It should.”

A lengthy pause hung in the air between them, not quite awkward, but not as comfortable as their pauses used to be. He turned the journal over and over in his hands and she watched the tree in the backyard. Its leaves were just starting to turn.

“Have you had any more dreams?” she asked.

“A few,” Mitch shrugged. “I don’t really remember them. Guess this thing might actually come in handy after all.”

\---

For the rest of the day, Jamie would find him scribbling things down in the book. She never asked what he wrote—it wasn’t her place. She suspected it wasn’t just dreams but notes, reminders, things he didn’t want to forget again.

He’d been the same way in his lab, before. Sticky notes had peppered nearly every surface, with random notes scrawled in his messy doctor’s handwriting. None of the rest of the team was ever able to decipher it. Even if Jamie asked to see the journal now, she probably wouldn’t be able to read anything.

It seemed to make Max happy to see him using it, though.

\---

Jamie was already desperately in need of some time to herself. These past few months, being so disconnected from the rest of the team had made her feel like an outsider in what was once her family. She felt utterly helpless even now. With the attic sitting up there, still cluttered and dusty, she decided it was high time she took control and did something useful.

It wasn’t hard to convince Max to let her tackle it alone. He was getting on in years, and certainly didn’t need the extra stress. But she promised to let him know if she found any photo albums.

“Trust me,” he chuckled, “half the stuff up there can be tossed. No need to ask—I trust your judgement.”

It had been a long time since anyone had really trusted her.

The first two boxes she unpacked were all Christmas decorations; most of them she set aside, except for one nameless moth-eaten stocking and a handful of rotten candy canes, all of which were tossed. It was a bit early for it, but Jamie resolved to talk to Max about holiday decorating later.

She dusted off a third box, labeled “Books” in fading black marker, and opened it. Inside were, no surprise, stacks of dusty paperbacks, stuffed away for who knew how long.

The reader in her was slightly upset at the sight, but she also recalled seeing more than one full bookshelf down in the main house. More than likely, he simply ran out of room and had to store some in the attic to save space.

Jamie began sifting through them, looking for anything interesting—otherwise, the whole box could probably go to a used book store. Among others, there was a dog-eared copy of _Great Expectations_ , and a couple of Shakespeare plays. She smirked as she picked up _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ , then something caught her eye.

At the very bottom of the box were two paperback copies of _A Rumor of Crows,_ by Jamie Campbell. Her first book.

She smiled and flipped through the pages of one of them—it looked well-read. None of her books had been widely published outside the United States, but it seemed she had at least one fan overseas.

Re-packing the rest of the books, Jamie set hers aside. Maybe Max would appreciate a signed copy from the author.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please review and let me know how I'm doing!


	5. Day Six

_Day Six_

Early one mid-week morning, Jamie made her way downstairs for a cup of coffee.

Finland was certainly an adjustment. Helsinki was a full seven hours ahead of New York, and caffeine was the only real way to combat the time difference. Not only that, but it was so _quiet_. Jamie was far more accustomed to the hustle and bustle of city life. The house’s silent seclusion was almost eerie at times.

Anyway, it was the first day she’d managed to wake herself up at a decent time, and that was an accomplishment.

The kitchen, though relatively unused, was incredibly spacious—nearly twice the size of her bedroom upstairs. She wasn’t much of a cook herself, but for some reason, Max’s kitchen was easily one of her favorite rooms of the house.

Mitch was already there, pouring himself a mug. He glanced up when she entered.

“Coffee?” he asked.

Jamie gave a polite smile and took a seat on one of the barstools at the counter, crossing her legs. “Yes, thank you.”

She was getting better at their daily interactions, bit by bit. The awkwardness was starting to fade, and she was reminded of when they’d first met, pseudo-colleagues as she dragged him along on her quest to bring down Reiden Global.

Of course, back then, they didn’t know anything about each other. Now, she knew everything about him while he barely knew who she was.

Mitch poured a second mug for her. “One cream, two sugars, right?”

He said it so nonchalantly, but at his words, they both froze. Jamie stared at him—his hand was still hovering over the tin of sugar, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“One cream, two sugars,” he repeated, slower, looking like he wasn’t sure what he was saying. Jamie’s face split into a wide grin and she stood up.

“That’s right,” she said. “You remembered!”

He hesitated, then smiled. “I… yeah, I did. Wow.”

She laughed, pulling him into a hug without thinking about it. His arms tightened around her, warming her, and for a moment, everything seemed back to normal. Jamie very nearly lost herself in his familiar scent, but she had to make herself retreat. She let her arms fall away from him a second or two later, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go tell Max,” she finally said, gesturing to the doorway.

Mitch nodded, looking a little self-conscious himself, then wordlessly picked up her mug and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him.

“Thanks,” she said.

\---

Max was ecstatic to hear about it, of course, calling it a ‘wonderful development.’ He insisted it was a good sign.

“Are you sure, though?” Jamie asked, suddenly doubtful without knowing exactly why. “Couldn’t this just be another one of those instinctive things, like tying his shoes? Maybe he just didn’t have to think about it.”

“No, no,” he waved off her question. “No, his own coffee order, maybe, but not yours. He specifically remembered it! No, this is good. This is progress, Jamie!”

She wasn’t yet allowing herself such hope. Her initial excitement aside, Jamie had far too much experience getting her hopes up in the past, and it had ended badly nearly every time. She had learned, and this time she was going to be cautious and tread lightly. She’d let Max be excited for both of them.

“Okay,” she said. “Good. Progress.”

Later, after he left, she brought down the box of books from the attic and left it in the doorway to his bedroom. Hers was on top, bearing her signature on the first page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies--this installment's a little short. I'll make up for it next week!  
> Your reviews give me life!


	6. Day Seven

_Day Seven_

FROM: Jamie Campbell  
TO: Dariela Kenyatta  
SUBJECT: Just checking in

Hey, Dariela.

Just wanted to let you know we made it okay. I meant to write earlier, but it’s taken some time to adjust. Helsinki is nice.

Things are going okay with Mitch, but… well, it’s a waiting game, and you know I’ve never been very patient. Yesterday he remembered how I take my coffee, and Max says that’s progress. I’m still a little wary. You’ll be glad to hear I’m keeping myself busy, though. I’m even thinking of starting another book soon.

How are you? I hear the IADG is doing some good work over there. It’s nice to see things are starting to get back to normal somewhere in the world.

Say hey to the rest of the gang for me, and send my love to Abe and Isaac.

-Jamie


	7. Day Eight

_Day Eight_

FROM: Dariela Kenyatta  
TO: Jamie Campbell  
SUBJECT: Re: Just checking in

Glad to hear you’re settling in okay. We’ll have to come for a visit sometime.

I’m sure everything with Mitch will start working out. We all know how incredible his brain is, it’ll start healing itself before long. You’ve just got to be patient.

We’ve been swamped at the IADG. Hybrid sightings are coming in from all over the country, but they get fewer every day. The west coast still has it pretty bad—Jackson and Tessa have got their hands full. I hear her morning sickness is getting worse, but it’ll pass.

Say hi to the doc when he remembers me.

-Dariela

\---

The attic was cold. That was another thing about Finland that Jamie was still adjusting to: it was so damn _cold_.

She didn’t like the cold, never had. Warm climates had always been her preference—Louisiana was warm, and so was California.

Cold made her think of Canada, of the dark forests, of frostbite on her toes, and the never-ending numbness. It reminded her of trekking through the snow day after day, wondering if anyone was ever going to find her, feeling the icy wind whipping at her face, stinging her skin until she wanted to cry.

Pulling her wool jacket tighter around her, she shoved the awful memory to the side, stooping to look through another box of who-knew-what.

It wasn’t labeled. Jamie pulled back the flaps to find a pile of old clothes. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell emanating from them and started pulling things out for inspection.

A checkered brown skirt, a pair of faded jeans, a couple of pink blouses—it was all women’s clothing. And, judging by the shoulder pads, it was pretty dated. Jamie realized with a start that they must’ve belonged to Mitch’s mother.

She didn’t know much about the woman, except that she and Max had divorced when Mitch was a teenager. Jamie wasn’t even sure if she was still alive, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that these were her clothes, left behind after the separation.

Placing the clothes carefully back in the box, she closed it again and set it aside to be donated. They were still in decent condition, and a thrift store would surely take them.

There was no need to open up any old wounds, not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and review!


	8. Day Eleven

_Day Eleven_

Things were not going well.

It had been nearly two weeks and the only thing Mitch had managed to remember was the lyrics to an old Soundgarden song that had subsequently been stuck in everyone’s head for two days. He kept singing it under his breath, but Jamie couldn’t bring herself to snap at him because, after all, it was all he had at the moment.

More than anyone though, he was the one getting the most irritated with his lack of progress.

“That was almost a week ago,” he said, when Max once again brought up the morning he’d remembered Jamie’s coffee. “Nothing’s happened since then!”

“You just need more time,” Max explained patiently.

“How much time?” he retorted. “How long before we give up hope?”

“We don’t,” Jamie cut in, attempting to play peacemaker. “We keep trying, and eventually, I know it’ll all come back—”

Mitch stood, pacing over to the window. “Yeah, you keep saying that, but what if it doesn’t? Huh? What if all this is pointless and I’m never gonna remember anything else? I mean—”

He stopped with a grimace, rubbing at his temples. Another headache. They’d been coming on pretty regularly for the past few days. Max wordlessly picked up the bottle of ibuprofen from the coffee table and handed him two tablets, which he dry-swallowed with a nod of thanks.

“Neither of you will even tell me what caused this in the first place,” he continued, now sounding more exhausted than angry. “What happened to make me forget?”

Still seated on the couch, Jamie shared a look with Max. Truthfully, she’d been hoping that Mitch would remember the incident himself, and that they wouldn’t have to open that can of worms, but it looked like that was no longer an option.

“There you go again,” he said, “giving each other those secretive looks, like I’m not even here. Will one of you please just answer the question? _What happened to me?”_

Jamie sighed. “It’s a very complicated story,” she said apologetically. “You may want a drink first.”

\---

It had taken nearly two hours to give him a thorough answer. Jamie stuck to the most basic facts and left out a good many details. She didn’t want to overload him with too big of an info dump just yet, and hopefully, the rest would come back to him naturally.

(She didn’t mention Clementine, or the baby.)

He looked overwhelmed anyway, attempting to take another drink of his scotch before he realized the glass was empty.

“Okay…” he finally said, slowly. “Wow.”

Under different circumstances, Jamie would’ve laughed at his stunned expression. For now, she just smiled wryly. “Yeah, I know.”

“How’s your headache, son?” Max asked from his position across the dining room table.

“Better,” Mitch said, “I think.”

“Did any of that sound familiar, at all?” Jamie asked. She’d been watching his face carefully at certain points in the story, looking for any minute change in expression. His eyes had widened once or twice, but he’d stayed silent throughout the entire thing.

He paused, thinking it over. “Yes, actually. It definitely explains a few things.”

“Like…?” she prompted gently.

“Well,” he said with a humorless laugh, “I was assuming the scars were from a car crash, or something. Never would’ve guessed mutant wolves.”

At this, she closed her eyes for a second, angry with herself for not considering it. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t think about what you’d think when you saw those.”

He shrugged and pulled the bottle closer to re-fill his drink again. For a long moment, none of them said anything, just drank in silence. Finally, it was Max who stood up, still holding his glass in hand, as if about to give a speech.

“You know what we all need?” he asked. No one answered, and he took that as a cue to go on. “We need a day off.”

Another second of silence, before Jamie said, “What?”

“A day off,” he repeated, heading out of the room. “We’ve all been cooped up in this house for too long—we need to get out and have some fun!”

She shared a rather skeptical look with Mitch, one that Max didn’t seem to notice. He was in front of the living room bookshelves now, looking through the collection of books there, still talking to the two of them over his shoulder.

“Neither of you have really seen Helsinki yet,” he said. He pulled out one book in particular and rifled through its pages before carrying it back to the table. “It’s a beautiful city, just full of things to do.”

He dropped the book on the table before them. On the cover, in tall, black lettering, was the title: _Finland, A Travel Guide_. It looked old—the spine was cracked and several colored tabs stuck out of the pages. It had obviously been read multiple times.

“Bought this in a little travel bookshop when I first moved here,” Max said, tapping the cover. “It’s a little dated now, but it hasn’t failed me yet.”

Jamie picked it up and thumbed through its pages. “So, what are you suggesting, a night out on the town?”

“Oh, no,” he said, grinning wide, “I’m suggesting a full day out on the town. Tomorrow. Think of it as, as a little vacation.”

“I don’t know, Max. Is now really the right time?”

“Of course it is,” he insisted, sitting back down across from her and Mitch. “The best way to solve a problem is by taking a break from working on it. We could all use a break, Jamie.”

She hesitated, then turned to look at Mitch, who hadn’t said anything yet.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

Mitch was staring at the book thoughtfully. He looked up at the two of them and shrugged, holding up his scotch. “I think I’m exhausted and I wouldn’t mind a day off to not think about everything I can’t remember. Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all still following this series! It's really a joy to write, and your reviews give me life.


	9. Day Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s looking for a good vacation spot, you’ll never be bored in Helsinki! There’s sooo many museums, y’all. Maybe too many, it’s ridiculous. It’s also ridiculous how much research I’ve done on this fic. Anyone looking through my search history would think I’m planning a trip to Finland next week, lol.

_Day Twelve_

It was warm outside. The summer was long over and the middle of fall was fast approaching, but for whatever reason, the temperatures in Helsinki had risen again to give its citizens one last day of warm sunshine before the cold took over.

Maybe it had something to do with global warming screwing with the seasons, but Jamie was choosing to focus on other things. Like the fact that, according to Max’s guidebook, the city had nearly fifty museums of all different kinds. The Finnish National Gallery, the Design Museum, the Maritime Museum, then all the ones with the strange names, like the Kiasma, the Ateneum, and the Sinebrychoff.

She picked one at random. “K- Kasvi-museu-o?”

Two seats down from her, Max smiled. “Kasvimuseuo,” he said with expert pronunciation. “Literally translated, it means ‘plant museum.’ I’ve been there—fascinating stuff!”

Jamie had been lucky enough to snag one of the train’s window seats, and the city flashed by her in a blur while the early morning sunlight cast shifting shadows on the pages of the book. She tried to ignore Mitch reading over her shoulder.

“Where are we headed first?” she asked him.

“I forgot.” At Jamie’s concerned look, he chuckled. “Kidding. Uh, the parliament house.” Then he leaned in conspiratorially and muttered, “I think this is Max’s excuse to give us a history lesson.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Thought you were supposed to be the professor of the family.”

“Not anymore.”

Somehow, the joking mood was gone.

\---

Helsinki’s parliament house was big, impressive, and unfortunately closed to the public on Wednesdays.

Still, Jamie got a few good photos of the outside—it looked a bit like the Parthenon of Athens, with all of its imposing columns. And Max still fit in his little historical spiel, standing on the front steps like a tour guide.

(“It was built in 1931, after the old Parliament houses were getting too small to fit everyone. They chose to combine Neoclassicist architecture with the more modern styles of the 1920’s…”)

Eventually it was time to move on. Not a great start to the vacation, but Jamie tried to keep her spirits up. Surely one of the dozens of museums would be open.

\---

The next logical destination was the National Museum of Finland, being less than ten minutes’ walking distance from the parliament house. It was open, thank goodness, and the crowd was small.

Jamie hadn’t been to a real museum in ages—she’d forgotten how peaceful they were. Hushed tourists ambled from one exhibit to another, letting out quiet sighs of awe. She could feel the stress of the past two weeks easing out of her.

Max had been right—they all needed this.

He had disappeared over an hour ago to a different section of the building, possibly the café. But he’d insisted that she and Mitch take their time and “really soak it all in.”

The last time she’d checked, Mitch had been several yards behind her. She’d never pegged him for the type to stop and read every informational placard, but that was what he appeared to be doing. They were just lucky for the English translations provided.

It was getting to be midday and Jamie’s empty stomach was making itself known. But she found herself distracted by another beautiful piece of artwork and lingered in front of it for a few quiet minutes.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

She jumped a little at the sudden interruption and, at her elbow, Mitch smiled.

“What is?” she asked.

Turning to look at the painting, he said, “I’ve always thought of museums as… preservations of memories, reminders of what life used to be like. I guess it’s ironic that I’m here, you know, given the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she replied thoughtfully. After a pause, she added, “How are you doing, by the way? Any more headaches?”

Mitch shook his head. “Not today.”

“That’s good.”

They stood together in the silence for a few moments longer, looking at the painting, before moving on, but not before Jamie turned and snapped a quick photo of the gallery. Mitch was just visible in the edge of the frame, slightly out of focus and looking off-camera with a furrowed brow.

She’d send that one to Clem.

“Hungry?” she asked him. “I think Max is down in the café.”

Mitch nodded and gestured back the way they’d come. “Lead the way.”

After they’d weaved their way back through the gallery to the building’s one elevator, he stopped abruptly, with a sort of dazed look in his eyes. Jamie turned around with a frown.

“Mitch?”

“Uh,” he hesitated. “Can… can we take the stairs instead?”

Something was off. He’d gone a bit pale, and his hand shook as he ran it through his hair. She came closer, trying to meet his eyeline, but he avoided it.

“What’s wrong?” She kept her voice low, even though they were alone in the room.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, I just… did we, um. You and I were stuck in an elevator once, weren’t we?”

Then it dawned on her. “The Russian embassy…” she muttered.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, sounding a little breathless.

Jamie herself had been a bit skittish around elevators for some time after the incident, so she wasn’t surprised the memory was evoking such emotions in him. Being trapped in a small space with three other people while an enraged gorilla was loose in the air vents above you tended to be rather traumatic.

“Hey, it’s all right, you’re okay,” she said, reaching for his hand as he finally looked at her. “We can take the stairs, okay?”

He nodded and gripped her hand tighter. His palm was clammy, but she held firm and gently directed him towards the stairs on their right. By the time they reached the next floor, he’d calmed down considerably, but he didn’t let go just yet.

\---

After a brief lunch at the museum’s café, the three of them set out once more.

Of course, the National Library of Finland had to be included on their tour (containing more books in English than Jamie would’ve expected from a country that spoke mostly Finnish and Swedish). They spent a good hour and a half there, perusing the shelves.

Mitch got his turn with the guidebook, and at first joked about wanting to see the “naked mermaid statue”—Havis Amanda—before deciding instead on the botanical gardens at Kaisaneimi.

By the end of the day, all three of them were exhausted, but thoroughly content. The train carried them back home again, and after giving Max the window seat this time around, Jamie looked past him at the scenery. It was starkly different in the lighting of the sunset than it had been that morning, and she felt a sudden inspiration to set her next novel overseas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review! And Happy Thanksgiving!


	10. Day Thirteen

FROM: Clementine Lewis  
TO: Jamie Campbell  
SUBJECT: How are things going?  
Attachment: babypics.jpg

Hi, Jamie! I know it’s only been a couple of weeks but I’m writing anyway because I miss you guys!

America is still a shit storm (sorry, I know dad hates it when I swear). But the IADG says the hybrid population is dwindling. We’re taking em down! Well I’m not, cause I’m still technically on “maternity leave” but Sam and them are doing a helluva job.

Junior says hi, by the way! I’m sending you some pics to show to dad and grandpa. He’s got my eyes, but he’s got Sam’s everything else. He’s beautiful.

The others are all doing good. Logan says hi (don’t tell dad lol) – he just got promoted to Senior Manager in charge of something or other. He and Dariela are overseeing the reconstruction so we all see a lot of each other. Lucky for Sam and me, we have no shortage of babysitters!

So how’s Helsinki? And how’s dad doing? I know you said you’d let me know but I’m impatient! Tell me everything!!

Sending you lots of love!

-Clem (and Sam & Junior)

\---

Jamie smiled as she swiped through the pictures Clementine had sent. There were about thirty of them—she was turning out to be the very enthusiastic mother, documenting everything. First baby born in a decade. She deserved to enjoy it.

Motherhood had never really been Jamie’s calling, and she’d known that for a long time. As a child, it hadn’t appealed to her and as an adult, she’d never really had the time to think about it. Taking down a multi-million dollar global corporation all by yourself didn’t really leave much time to contemplate having babies one day.

Then, of course, the world was sterilized and there wasn’t a point in wondering what could’ve been.

Her three years with Clementine were the closest she’d ever had to having a child of her own. They were a family, almost, the two of them and Logan, but then she blinked. Suddenly, Clem was being taken away, and Logan was leaving, and Jamie was alone again. Always alone.

She shook her head, refusing to get lost in the past now. That was all over and done with, and she’d long since forgiven Max for his part in the custody battle.

Saving the photos to her tablet, she resolved to show them to Mitch later, when the time was right.

\---

When she came downstairs, Mitch was scribbling in the dream journal, something he hadn’t done in a few days.

“New dream?” she asked before she could stop herself. He looked up and shrugged.

“Uh, no, actually,” he said, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m just documenting our, uh, day trip from yesterday. Didn’t wanna forget anything.”

“Oh.” Jamie could feel her cheeks heating up, but couldn’t figure out why. That had been happening a lot around him. She sat in the armchair nearby. “Good. I’m… glad you had fun. So did I.”

He resumed his writing, and she watched him silently.

It was crazy, how many things she wished she could talk to him about. Clementine, baby Sam, even Henry, though he’d passed away years ago. She wished she could tell him about how Clementine never gave up on him, long after everyone else did, and how she herself had been so utterly relieved to find him alive again that she’d nearly collapsed the second she saw him.

The effort to keep her thoughts to herself was slowly suffocating her. Maybe she should take up journaling, too.

\---

FROM: Jamie Campbell  
TO: Clementine Lewis  
SUBJECT: Re: How are things going?  
Attachment: museumpics.jpg

Hey, Clem. Good to hear from you! We miss you guys, too.

Helsinki is beautiful, but you knew that already. We went sightseeing the other day, to relax. I attached some pictures for you. The botanical gardens were your dad’s favorite.

He’s been doing pretty well lately—there are good days and bad days. Today was a good one. It just takes patience. I’ll admit, after leading such a hectic life for so long, it’s strange to just sit back and do nothing for a while, but I think I’m getting better at it.

Thank you for the pictures, by the way. The baby looks beautiful! I hope you’re not spoiling him too much, even if he technically saved the world.

Tell everyone hi from me.

Love, Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, kind of a boring chapter. Sorry, lol. In my defense, I decided to take the next few chapters in a slightly different direction, which demanded some re-arranging, so all the action that was originally taking place here got pushed back a few days.
> 
> Review if you like!


	11. Day Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, I tried so hard to find childhood photos of Billy Burke, but I just couldn’t. They don’t seem to exist in our realm, he’s like a cryptid. So I guess you’ll just have to use your imaginations. Anyway, enjoy!

The wooden stairs leading to the attic were chilly, even through Jamie’s socks, and she shivered as she made her way up.

It was just after breakfast. She’d decided to tackle the attic early and get at least an hour in before the day really got started. Accomplishing something so soon in the morning always made her feel good. Some of her best writing had been done before 10:00 a.m.

But Jamie had only been upstairs for about ten minutes when she found the dusty plastic storage bin tucked away in the far corner, unlabeled. She dragged it to the middle of the space and knelt to open it.

Bingo! Three photo albums, a handful of old yearbooks, and what looked like old VHS tapes wedged between. Jamie smiled wide in victory.

\---

“God knows why I stuffed all these up there in the first place,” Max muttered as the three of them unpacked the bin Jamie had brought down from the attic. He was smiling, though, as he picked up one of Mitch’s yearbooks, dated 1983. “Let’s see, this must’ve been… sixth grade?”

Mitch grimaced. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be embarrassing?” But he leaned forward to look over his father’s shoulder.

The faded pages were filled with class pictures of awkward preteens, some smiling, some scowling, and a few with a deer-in-headlights expression. Max skipped through the alphabet straight to the M’s, running a finger down the page.

“All the men in our family have names that start with M, you know,” he said absently. “Your grandfather Moe, his father Maurice, _his_ brother Morris…”

“Guess someone back in the day really appreciated alliteration,” Jamie remarked.

Mitch snorted. “One of these days, we’re gonna run out of names and we’ll have to start repeating ourselves.”

“Oh, we already have,” Max said, pausing in his search. “You’re actually the second Mitchell in the family, and I have a second cousin also named Max. Although, in his case, it’s short for Maximillian, not Maxwell.”

“Huh,” Mitch said. “Fancy that. Mitch Morgan, the second.”

His father glanced toward the plastic bin at their feet. “Yes, I’m sure I have a picture of the first around here somewhere…”

Jamie could see he was getting distracted and decided to intervene. “Why don’t we find him later? Let’s take a look at the yearbooks first.”

“Ah, of course,” he said, turning back to the book. “Let’s see… Moore, Morales, Moreno, aha! Morgan! Here you are, son!”

The other two leaned in to take a look at the small, black and white photo where his finger had landed.

Even if there hadn’t been a list of names running down the margin of the page, Jamie would’ve been able to pick out Mitch’s photo easily. With his messy mop of dark hair and the glasses that took up half of his face, he nearly looked like a miniature of his adult self. Not to mention, his expression clearly said that he didn’t want to have his picture taken at all.

She stifled a laugh as Mitch groaned.

“Yep, I was right,” he said. “This is already awful.”

“No, you were so cute!” Jamie insisted.

Max chuckled. “I think there’s a picture of you in the talent show somewhere in here… Do you remember that?”

“Not at all,” Mitch replied. “What on earth was my talent?”

“You recited the U.S. presidents! All forty of them, from Washington to Reagan.” Max patted his shoulder affectionately. “I was so proud!”

There was a photo near the end of the book—a group shot of all the participants of the talent show, all arranged on the small stage and looking uncomfortable. Mitch stood near the back, partly hidden by the blonde curls of the girl in front of him, and frowning.

Now, he was staring intently at the picture, brows drawn together.

“I think…” he mumbled. “I think I do remember that, a little. I remember I definitely didn’t win, anyway.”

“No, first place went to some girl who tap-danced to the national anthem. Absolute crap, in my opinion, but I suppose I was biased.”

\---

After finding his eleventh grade class photo (where he looked, if possible, even less excited to be there), they set the yearbooks aside for a little while and pulled out the first of the photo albums, dated 1970-1978.

Despite the illogical idea, Jamie was somehow surprised to find that Mitch had not emerged from the womb already wearing glasses. In fact, his baby pictures looked like anyone else’s. A much younger Max sat next to a pretty woman with dark hair, both smiling at the camera, with their son between them.

This was the first time Jamie had ever seen Mitch’s mother. She was beautiful. Mitch had clearly inherited more of Max’s features, but the influence of his mother was clear. They had the same smile.

Mitch looked at the picture with something akin to reverence. All he said was, “Mom… I remember her.”

“That’s good.” Max nodded, looking wistful.

“Where is she?”

Here, his father hesitated. “Your mother and I separated when you were fifteen, and I’m afraid we haven’t seen each other since. The last I heard, she was still living in California.”

He was obviously leaving out the specifics, and he turned the page like he wanted to change the subject. Jamie hated lying to Mitch, but she knew that if Mitch remembered the infidelity that had caused his parents’ divorce, the tentative bond he and his father had forged in the past few weeks would vanish in an instant.

\---

The first eight years of Mitch’s life looked like they were happy. There were pictures of his first Christmas, the first time he rode a bike, and, subsequently, the first time he lost a tooth (grinning up at the camera and pointing proudly at the gap). In fact, there were pictures of almost everything. Max seemed to have the same hands-on, camera-out approach to parenting that Clementine did.

Through the next two photo albums, Mitch managed to recall the chemistry set he got for Christmas when he was ten and the summer that Max took him Bigfoot-hunting in Oregon under the guise of a camping trip.

Jamie was surprised he laughed so easily about that last one.

“…then I, I tripped over a tree root, didn’t I?” he was saying. “I think I sprained an ankle, and you had to take me to the hospital—”

Max nodded, smiling. “Yes, you had a sprained ankle and I had a concussion. We spent the whole night in the ER and never even got a glimpse of the Squatch! Of course, you didn’t even think he existed in the first place.”

“Still don’t. In fact, I remember being pretty pissed about that trip for a while.”

“Ah, well,” Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank goodness that’s all behind us.”

\---

They saved the VHS tapes for last. There wasn’t much on them—the first one they watched was actually just the second half of a football game from 1987. It was promptly tossed (after Max quickly fast-forwarded to the end to see who won).

The second one covered a few key moments in Mitch’s toddler years. None of them evoked any memories, as he was entirely too young, but the three of them paid rapt attention anyway.

Finally, the last tape contained a few minutes of shaky trick-or-treating footage from the Halloween of 1979 (Mitch was dressed as an astronaut), before cutting to his presentation on photosynthesis at the eighth grade science fair.

“I won something that time, didn’t I?”

“Third place,” Max said. "I was so proud."

It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that all the documentation seemed to stop right in the middle of Mitch’s teenage years, but none of them were willing to point it out. Instead, Max clasped Jamie’s hand and smiled at her, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

“Thank you,” he said. “You have no idea how much you’ve done for us these past few weeks.”

All the misgivings and hesitation that she may have experienced in that time dulled in the face of the man’s gratitude, and Jamie smiled back. “It’s been my pleasure, Max.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all who are still following this series! Your reviews and encouragement are what's keeping me going!


	12. Day Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upping the rating just a bit for a teensy bit of suggestive content. Just playing it safe.

_Day Eighteen_

“Does it really make sense that we’re putting up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving?”

Jamie waved away Mitch’s question and adjusted the string of lights encircling the tree. “We’re in Finland,” she said. “They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t. We’re still loyal Americans, aren’t we?”

His side was looking a little sparse. Jamie handed him a couple more ornaments. “Well, we can still have turkey, but I doubt we’ll be able to watch the parade. I don’t think the TVs here get that channel.”

“Damn,” he muttered with a smirk. “Guess I’ll have to miss the dog show, too.”

She laughed, re-arranging the plastic candy canes hanging from the tree’s branches.

Maybe it was a bit early to decorate for the holidays, but truthfully, Jamie couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a reason to look forward to Christmas, and she was seizing the feeling now. If it meant skipping Thanksgiving completely, then so be it.

She’d never really been that crazy about Thanksgiving anyway.

The tree was nearly done—all that was missing was the star. She withdrew it from the nearly empty box and handed it to Mitch.

“You’re taller,” she explained, and he smiled, reaching up to place it.

Jamie stepped back and looked over the finished product with a critical eye. It looked good, considering she hadn’t decorated a Christmas tree in something like seven or eight years. When she turned to thank Mitch for the help, he was closer than she expected, watching her with a strange expression on his face. She shifted uncomfortably.

“What?”

He reached a hand out and gently caught a strand of her hair between his fingers, pulling something out.

“Had some tinsel in your hair,” he said, his voice low. He held up the shiny material before tossing it on the floor, lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Oh,” Jamie breathed. “Thanks.”

Her eyes were locked on his, her lips slightly parted. The room felt at least ten degrees warmer than it was, and Mitch’s hand was at her hair again, as if checking for more tinsel that they both knew wasn’t there.

Perhaps he was remembering the same thing she was: the two of them lying together in the tangled sheets of his bed, him running his fingers through her hair as they talked in hushed tones.

She swallowed down the surge of emotions brought on by the memory, but couldn’t bring herself to break eye contact. His brows were drawn together and he was looking at her like he used to—like she was a puzzle he needed to solve.

“Jamie!”

Max’s voice from the other room jerked them apart, and Jamie looked everywhere but at him, feeling a little too much like a teenager. The tension broke when the elder Morgan entered.

“Jamie, I’m afraid we don’t have a stocking for you,” he told her with a regretful frown.

“Oh, uh, that’s okay,” she said. “I don’t need one—”

Max was already digging in the box near the corner. “No, no, of course you do! Look, I think I’ve got one here that used to belong to my aunt Nora—no idea why I kept it this long, but it’ll be a placeholder for now til we get you your own… aha!”

He held up the dusty green stocking triumphantly, and Jamie managed a smile.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll go hang it up.”

The modern architecture of Max’s house meant that he didn’t actually have a fireplace mantle. He’d improvised and hung the stockings off the edge of the breakfast bar that stood between the living room and the kitchen. It looked a little bare, even after Jamie had added hers. Her name was written on an index card, carefully safety pinned over Aunt Nora’s.

“It’ll do,” Max declared. “But we’ll have to get you a real one before Christmas!”

Jamie eyed him as he fiddled with the decorations with an almost nervous air.

“Is everything okay?” she asked him.

“Oh, sure, of course!”

A lie if she ever heard one. But, keeping with the holiday spirit (in the middle of November), Jamie didn’t press the issue. She’d figure it out eventually.

The rest of the day was spent sorting through the rest of the decorations, tossing those that were unusable. By dinnertime, the house looked completely different. Red ribbon adorned the bannisters, a wreath greeted visitors at the door, and all around was the soft glow of Christmas lights.

Several times throughout the day, Jamie found herself unwillingly flashing back to that first, awful winter after Mitch had died. She’d practically wilted in the cold weather, and neither she nor Clementine had really felt like celebrating the season. Much as Logan tried to raise their spirits, his efforts went largely unappreciated.

She never would’ve made it through that first year without him. Even if they weren’t right for each other in the end, and he was always just playing understudy to a dead man, she’d never be able to thank him enough for all he did for them.

\---

FROM: Jamie Campbell  
TO: Logan Hale  
SUBJECT: An update

Hey, Logan.

I know it’s been a while since we last spoke, and I’m sorry about that. It must’ve seemed like I just disappeared off the face of the earth. May as well have. Sometimes this place feels like it’s at the end of the world. Things are a bit quiet, but I think that’s just what I need right now.

Clem told me about your promotion—congratulations! Good to know those folks at the IADG are recognizing your worth.

Anyway, I feel like I need to apologize, for… a lot of things, I guess. I never treated you the way I should’ve, and I’m so sorry. After doing so much for me, for Clementine, you deserved better.

You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to, but I hope you’re happy where you are now.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It still blows my mind that I ended up caring about Logan so much. What even happened there?


	13. Day Nineteen

_Day Nineteen_

It was Jamie’s turn to fix breakfast, and she opted for the very simple bacon and eggs, for fear of screwing up anything more complicated. She was still in her pajamas, with a mismatched cardigan on top. The mornings were getting colder.

She hummed quietly to herself, lost in thought. The plot for her next book was nagging at her, and she knew she’d have to do more research before she could start outlining the first few chapters. Maybe the boys could be persuaded into another trip to one of Helsinki’s many museums? She set the thought aside for another time.

Max swept through, smiling at her in thanks as he filled a plate and took it out to the dining room. When she followed him a minute later with her own breakfast, she found him looking at his phone in concern, his food untouched.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Just like yesterday, he waved her off. “No, no, everything’s fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing, really!” He stabbed a forkful of scrambled eggs and began to eat.

Jamie frowned. “Max, you know I used to be a journalist, right?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “I can tell when people are lying to me.”

Max sighed, lowering the fork back to his plate. “You are relentless, aren’t you? It’s not a big deal, but if you must know, a colleague of mine has been messaging me about a little research trip he’s planning. He wants me to come with, and he’s having a hard time taking no for an answer.”

That was what had been bothering him? Jamie couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed.

“Really?” she asked. “That’s it? Where’s he going?”

“Sweden, lake Storsjön,” he explained. “There’s a… lake monster that’s said to live there. Sort of like the Loch Ness monster. But I’ve told him I can’t make it! So, that’s that.”

He wasn’t lying anymore, but Jamie could hear the disappointment in his words.

“Why can’t you go?” She said with an innocent shrug. “It’s not far.”

Max blinked, then said, “I can’t leave the two of you now. Mitch needs me!”

“Where are you going?” Mitch entered from the kitchen with a plate of food and sat at the table. He looked at his father expectantly, but Jamie was the one to answer his question.

“He’s going on a research trip to Sweden.”

“No, I’m not,” Max insisted, even as Mitch hummed in interest.

Jamie drew her cardigan tighter around her. “You should,” she said. “I can take care of Mitch for a few days.”

“Thanks,” Mitch deadpanned. “Also, I’m a grown man, amnesiac or not.”

His father still looked conflicted. Jamie picked up his phone from the table and handed it to him.

“Go on,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Text him back, tell him you can go. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

\---

Two hours later, his suitcase was packed and waiting by the front door. He wasn’t all that hard to persuade in the end. Still, he lingered.

“It’ll only be a few days,” he repeated. “And if you need anything, just—”

“Just call and you’ll come running back,” Jamie finished for him. “Will you please relax? We’ll be fine!”

He nodded. “Right, of course you will.”

“You better not spend the whole trip worrying about us,” she said as she carried his suitcase out to the curb where the taxi was waiting. “Remember to have some fun once in a while, okay? And stay safe!”

He gave a mock salute as he climbed into the back of the taxi, dragging his luggage behind him. Jamie shivered but waited until the car had disappeared around the corner before she headed back to the warmth inside.

Sending Max away meant that she and Mitch would be alone together the entire time he was gone. Somehow, she couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or not.


	14. Day Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since you’ve gone, I been lost without a trace. I dream at night, I can only see your face  
> I look around but it’s you I can’t replace. I feel so cold and I long for your embrace

The attic was looking better each day. Slowly but surely, Jamie was sorting through the clutter, clearing the cobwebs. She was quite proud of her work so far, grueling as it could be sometimes, and she hoped to be done by the time Max made it home. He would certainly be pleased with the final product.

Mitch had opted to help her today, surprisingly. He seemed to be in a better mood of late.

She glanced across the room to where he sat, rummaging through a plastic bin of records.

“Anything good?” she called.

“Yeah, a bit,” he answered, pushing up his glasses as he examined the dusty albums. “Some Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, all that good stuff.”

“What, no N’Sync?”

He smirked at her. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Generation gap,” Jamie laughed. “Sorry.”

“Wait a second,” he said softly. When she looked back, he had pulled out one album in particular, peering at it closely.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I… I think I remember this,” he said hesitantly. “I think this one’s mine. Or, it was…”

She waited patiently as he seemed to grasp at the memory, pulling it back within his reach.

“My thirteenth birthday,” he finally muttered. “Dad got this for me… It wasn’t really the one I wanted, but I listened to it anyway, and…” He swallowed. “It was good, I- I ended up liking it.”

Jamie came closer, quietly, and looked over his shoulder. Tears for Fears, _The Hurting_. She hadn’t been lying about the generation gap—cassette tapes weren’t even in style anymore by the time she was a teenager, much less vinyls. But she was a witness to the resurgence of eighties culture a few years back, so it wasn’t all completely foreign to her.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn’t stir, still staring at the album intently.

“I think I saw a record player downstairs somewhere.” She didn’t say anything more, letting him make the decision himself.

Slowly, Mitch nodded. “Do you think it works?”

“Let’s try it out.”

\---

It did, much to their surprise. Old technology held up pretty well, nearly forty years later, and the sound was just scratchy enough to be considered _vintage_.

As the opening strains of _Mad World_ warbled through the living room, Jamie laughed.

“Oh my god,” she said, “I think they played this song at my middle school prom! It was eighties themed—you know, eighth grade and all.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. ”Kind of a dark song for a middle school dance, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t go to a very good school,” Jamie explained with a shrug.

She laughed again, and this time, he joined in. Then, his eyes closed and he seemed to be concentrating on something. Jamie quieted and watched him. The song went on, but neither of them were paying it much attention anymore.

“Are you remembering something?” she finally asked, softly.

He shrugged. “Same thing as before, I just… I remember listening to this right after I got it. It was real late at night, and… cold. It was cold outside, I think it might have even been snowing…”

The music was fading, slowly, and Mitch opened his eyes again to look at her.

“I think that gives me an idea…” she said.

\---

They brought down all the albums from the attic and stacked them next to the record player.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Jamie said as she removed the dust from one of the covers with a swipe of her hand. “I’ve read about it. Your brain naturally associates certain memories with certain pieces of music, and listening to the music again can help you remember them, even if it’s years later!”

She looked over at Mitch to find him smiling at her funny.

“What?” she asked, suddenly unsure.

He looked away and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Nothing, uh… That, yeah, that makes sense. Sounds familiar, actually. Maybe I read the same thing you did.”

Brushing past the odd moment, Jamie turned back to the records, trying to rearrange them in some sort of logical order—going by year seemed to make the most sense. Several of them were older than her, and she was about to make a joke of it when—

“Thank you, by the way.”

His words caught her off guard and for a brief second, it was eleven years ago and they were in a Zambian hospital with a leopard cub and a cure for the animals. She blinked back into the present.

“For what?”

Mitch shrugged as he loaded a Police record into the player. “For helping me. I know Max already said something the other day, but I’m saying it again now. You didn’t have to put your life on hold to help me, but you did. Means a lot.”

While the memory itself had faded, all the emotions associated with that day in the lab were coming back to her—fear, nervousness, confusion, affection. It was making her palms sweat and she got the familiar urge to run away again, just as she did then.

But she forced herself to stay.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s… you’re welcome.”

The music finally began to play. Jamie vaguely recognized the opening chords of _Every Breath You Take_. Mitch was giving her that funny smile again, and her mind blanked for a moment.

And then she kissed him.

He didn’t move right away. But, just as she realized what she’d done and began to pull away, he followed her, pulling her close, kissing her back. It all felt so familiar that Jamie let herself get carried away for a few seconds before her eyes snapped open and she jerked back, out of his arms.

Mitch blinked at her, looking a little dazed, but before either of them could say anything, Jamie turned and left the room as fast as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of one to ten, how obvious is it that I wrote this right after watching the Snow Ball scene in Stranger Things 2? (answer: eleven)


	15. Day Twenty-Two

_Day Twenty-Two_

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me?”

Jamie nearly jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, but she refused to turn around. Looking at him would only make it all that much more difficult. She could hear the record player in the living room—he must’ve turned it on before he came in, but it was too far away for her to identify the song.

She sighed, bracing herself for an awkward conversation.

“Look, I didn’t mean to- to throw myself at you yesterday—”

He scoffed out a laugh. “You didn’t _throw yourself_ at me, Jamie—”

“—I was just, I dunno, tired. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

She turned to face him then. He was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, and there was a thinly veiled vulnerability in his eyes as he looked at her.

“You’re… what?”

Mitch shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed but answering still. “I’m not sorry that it happened. Why would I be? I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

Ignoring the warmth that seeped into her stomach at his words, she brushed past him into the living room. “It was a mistake. You were just… reacting instinctively! That’s what happens when you get kissed.”

It was Frank Sinatra crooning on the record player, one of his classic jazzy numbers from the 1950’s. Must’ve been one of Max’s old albums. Mitch followed her out of the kitchen.

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “Look, I know you’re probably worried that you’re, you’re taking advantage of me, or something, because of everything that’s happened, but that’s ridiculous. I kissed you back because it felt familiar!”

She crossed her arms warily. There was more truth to his words than she would’ve liked to admit. “So what, did you… remember something?”

The record skipped, changing the song abruptly, but neither of them noticed.

“I remembered this,” Mitch said, gesturing between them. “I remembered you! When you kissed me, I remembered that—” He cut himself off with a grunt of pain, gripping his temples. It was the first headache he’d gotten in days. Jamie took a step forward.

“Mitch? What is it?”

“I— I don’t know.” He’d collapsed on the couch, head in his hands. Then, his eyes shot open “I remember… Clementine.”

Her eyes widened and neither of them said anything for a long moment. The music played on, ignored. Then Mitch looked up at her with an unreadable expression.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Jamie hesitated. She knew this moment would come, but she found herself entirely unprepared to explain herself. Whether or not Mitch was angry or just disappointed, she couldn’t tell.

“I wanted to, Mitch,” she started. He scoffed, but she continued urgently. “Believe me, I wanted to, but we didn’t want to overwhelm you! Max and I both thought it was best that you—”

“See, that’s the problem,” he interrupted. “You two are the only ones making the decisions around here and I never get a say in it. I have a daughter, Jamie! How is that not something worth reminding me about?”

The music was too loud, distracting; she couldn’t focus.

“We were only looking out for you.”

 _“I’m not a child,”_ he said, voice rising. “I don’t need looking after! I need my daughter!”

He turned to leave, pulling away when Jamie tried to stop him. She shrunk back, feeling as if she’d just been burned.

“Mitch, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He paused.

“You know, when I first got here, when I couldn’t remember my own damn name, Max told me I could trust you and I believed him, even though I had no idea who you were. I’m not so sure I made the right choice.”

The uplifting music that played on after he left did nothing to improve Jamie’s devastation. She switched it off. Wiping her eyes quickly, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Max’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

“Jamie? Is everything all right?”

As badly as she wanted to say yes, Jamie shook her head, though she knew Max couldn’t see her.

“No,” she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “No, Max. I think… I think it’s time you came back.”

\---

FROM: Jamie Campbell  
TO: Clementine Lewis  
SUBJECT: Re: Re: How are things going?

Clem-

He wants to see you. How soon can you come?

-Jamie

\---

FROM: Clementine Lewis  
TO: Jamie Campbell  
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: How are things going?

I’ll be there in two days.

-Clem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's a little short, but my muse hasn't been cooperating this week.  
> Only two chapters left!


	16. Day Twenty-Four

_Day Twenty-Four_

True to her word, Clementine arrived in Finland forty-eight hours later, anxious to see her father. She looked surprisingly put-together, given the circumstances. Max and Jamie greeted her at the door, and she immediately hugged both of them, careful not to jostle the baby too much.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she said with a winning smile. “I would’ve come immediately, but they’re being real stingy about what flies in and out these days, and the plane’s so big…”

Lending the plane to Clementine, and, by extension, the rest of the team, was the only logical choice once Jamie made the decision to stay in Finland indefinitely. After all, she wasn’t using it. But it probably did look suspicious to the FAA, especially since it was still technically registered under Jamie’s name, not Clementine’s.

“Is Sam with you?” Jamie asked.

“He’s back on the plane,” she explained. “Said he didn’t want to intrude.”

Max was making exaggerated faces at Sam Jr., much to the baby’s delight. “And how’s my favorite great-grandson?” he asked.

Clementine willfully handed him over with a smile. “He’s doing great. Getting bigger every day!”

“Trust me,” her grandfather said, still cooing at the baby, “it only gets worse. Mitch was already taller than me by the time he reached high school.”

The mention of his name reminded them all of the real reason for Clementine’s visit.

“Can I see him?” she asked.

Jamie nodded. The three of them headed inside just as the breeze started picking up, Max keeping Sam Jr. carefully shielded from the cold air. They lingered in the foyer for a moment as Clementine hung her coat.

“He’s in the living room,” Jamie said, letting her take the lead. She’d lived here longer than Jamie had, after all. She knew the way.

His back was to the door, but he got to his feet as soon as they entered. The look on his face could only be described as pure relief and love. Clementine smiled wide.

“Hey, Dad. Long time, no see.”

\---

They’d been talking for the better part of two hours now. Understandable, given that in her twenty-two years, Clementine had barely spent more than a few weeks at a time with her father. They had a lot to catch up on.

Jamie had quickly bowed out after the reunion. It was a family matter and, well, she wasn’t exactly family. Not really.

The one thing she did see that she’d never forget was Mitch’s face as he held his grandson again. Funny that a man she’d once considered to be utterly unflappable could actually be brought to tears so easily.

But she’d never thought him uncaring, not even when others did.

He was the first person to take her seriously in a long time. She’d been so angry back then, so filled with rage over the injustice in the world. But he’d looked at her and instead of writing her off like so many others had, he’d seen someone worth listening to.

And he put up with an awful lot of her shit for someone who said he preferred being stuck in heavy traffic to having a conversation with another person.

There was a soft knock at her door, cutting through her reminiscing.

Mitch had his hands stuffed in his pockets and looked like he had collected himself since she saw him two hours ago.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” She nodded, opening the door wide as he passed.

She realized when he gave a cursory glance around that in the entire month they’d been in Finland, Mitch had never seen the inside of her room until now. There wasn’t much to see. She hadn’t done any real decorating, aside from a few photos on the dresser.

He stopped to study one in particular. It was taken on Clementine’s twelfth birthday—she and Jamie stood outside the American Girl store, smiling, as she proudly held her new doll (Logan was behind the camera).

“Her birthday,” Jamie explained softly, and Mitch nodded. “Afterwards, we took her to see a Pixar movie.” After a pause, she asked, “What was the memory, by the way? The one about Clementine, that made you remember her.”

He smiled softly, eyes still on the photo. “When she was a baby, Audra and I had the hardest time getting her to sleep. We tried reading to her, singing to her, nothing worked. Then one night, I strapped her into her car seat and just started driving around until she got tired and nodded off. I used to play the oldies station on the radio. She liked Sinatra.”

Jamie could picture it clearly: A younger version of Mitch sighing in contented exhaustion as his daughter slept peacefully behind him. She wondered if Sam and Clementine had to do the same with their son.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you the other day. You were only trying to help.”

She shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was stupid of me not to tell you.”

He turned to her with an apologetic smile, arms half-raised. Without hesitation, she wrapped hers around his neck and pulled him down into a tight hug. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to get close to him since the kiss three days ago. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his touch.

“I do trust you, you know,” he said against her shoulder. “More than anyone.”

Jamie smiled. “I know. I trust you, too.”

Maybe they weren’t the words either of them really wanted to say, but they were enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve seen Coco twice now and the relationship between a certain father and his daughter (not spoiling anything in case someone hasn’t seen it) gave me serious Mitch and Clementine vibes. Just, the estranged father who wants nothing more than to see his daughter again but can’t, ugh. And can you imagine Mitch singing “Remember Me” to little baby Clem?? Oh, the feelings…
> 
> Anyway, that movie is fantastic, 12/10 would recommend. Just bring a tissue box. Or two.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

_Epilogue  
Christmas Eve_

It felt good to be back in America again, just in time for the holidays. Finland was beautiful, but it wasn’t home, not to Jamie. Didn’t they say home was more of a feeling than a place anyway?

She glanced out into the living room and smiled.

Abe and Dariela’s modest two-story was small—making room for eleven people (and a baby) was nearly asking too much of it, especially with only two bathrooms. But they were determined to make it work, if just for a few days.

Members of the pseudo-family were spread throughout the room. On the opposite couch, Dariela was in deep discussion with Tessa, whose stomach was just starting to swell. She was approaching her second trimester, and Dariela was delighting in giving her advice. Jackson and Abe were on their way over with hot chocolate.

Max appeared to be describing his latest adventure to Sam while Clementine looked on in amusement. The baby in her arms was nearly twice the size he was the last time Jamie saw him.

Finally, over in the far corner, Isaac was very seriously describing the rules of a card game to Logan. Jamie bit back a laugh at the confused expression on his face as he tried to keep up with the eleven-year-old.

Frowning, she realized that she couldn’t see Mitch anywhere.

As if on cue, she heard someone enter the dining room behind her. In a second, Mitch sat beside her, sliding an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. Jamie grinned and leaned into him.

“How ya holding up?” she asked him, still perusing the manuscript on the computer in front of her. “This isn’t too much social interaction for you, is it?”

He chuckled. “I think I can manage for a day or two more.”

“Good.”

His mind still got a bit fuzzy sometimes. He’d come a long way since they took the bio-drive out of his head, but there were some memories he may never get back. They’d done all they could, for the time being.

Now, she just wanted to rest. For the first time since she was eleven years old, Jamie Campbell was going to have a good Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I finished it!  
> I’m gonna be honest, some chapters didn’t turn out exactly like I wanted, but I’m pretty pleased with the final product. Thanks so much to everyone that’s stuck around so long after the show’s ending! You are my inspiration.  
> I still have plans to continue the high school AU series—in fact, I’ll be able to focus on it more now that this one is done.


End file.
